


Beyond the Sea

by thevorpalsword



Series: Garden Grow [1]
Category: The Old Guard (Movie 2020)
Genre: Canon Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Historical Inaccuracy, Immortal Husbands Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova, M/M, Not Beta Read, Short & Sweet, bandits, no beta we die like men, or do we, random encounters in the 1600s, seriously this is just them being sweet to each other, the random adventures of joe and nicky through the ages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,109
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27692719
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thevorpalsword/pseuds/thevorpalsword
Summary: Nico and Yusuf often take on small jobs when traveling to place to place. It's an easy way to pass time and make a little money. On one such job, Nico finds that providence has given him the opportunity to acquire a present for the love of his life.(just a small, sweet story about finding thatone perfect giftfor your partner)
Relationships: Joe | Yusuf Al-Kaysani/Nicky | Nicolò di Genova
Series: Garden Grow [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2168922
Comments: 20
Kudos: 186





	Beyond the Sea

“Check on the cargo, you imbecile! What do you think I’m paying you for?!”

The puce faced man roars at Nico, shoving him. Normally, Nicolò would ignore an order spat at him in such a manner, even if it was coming from a client. Especially, since he was present occupied with tying a clean bandage over one of the footman’s wounds. The poor man is still shaking like a leaf, and Nico wants to get the wound bound up properly before the shock wore off.

However, it had already been an extremely trying day between guarding this asshole, and fending off a bandit attack – Nicolò really doesn’t want to stir up any more trouble. They’d be another week or two on the road at this rate and he really didn’t want to spend it on this asshole’s bad side.

“As you wish, sir,” Nico replies and hands off the bandage to another servant who thankfully takes his place next to the footman without being asked.

“’As I wish’,” the little man mocks snidely. Nico knows that his grasp of the present form of Latin everyone is using these days is...questionable at times. When he speaks people have told him he comes across as a strange mix of overly formal, and antiquated. But still, the mocking is uncalled for. The merchant follows Nicolò down past the overturned carriage, where the man’s wife is openly weeping in fright, clutching the couple’s young son to her chest while she sits on the dusty ground.

The small caravan had been traveling from Florence to Venice, delivering this man’s life, possessions and livelihood to a new home in the famous sea port. Nico didn’t know the details of the move, only that he and Yusuf had been hired on a part of the man’s guard. The roads were much safer these days, 1631 being a long way from the feudal lawlessness of the 1100s; and thank God, the absolute insanity that was the first half of the 1500s. Still, they were passing through areas that didn’t have a _great_ deal of lawful oversight.

Nico sighs and glances over his shoulder, looking towards the head of the caravan where Yusuf is currently helping some of the other guards hired on catch and corral the scattered horses, spooked by the attack.

His lover manages to snatch up the reins of one of their mounts, and within seconds has the poor beast soothed. Nico doesn’t have to be close to know that Yusuf is murmuring soft, gentle nonsense in Derja, petting the horse with firm hands meant to calm. Yusuf in battle is astounding, arresting, and plenty of other words that Nico can only think in the privacy of his own mind. But Nico can’t help but think that Yusuf’s hands and talents are far better spent on creation, on soothing, on loving.

Maybe after this job they should take a small break, Nicolò considers silently. They haven’t seen Andromache or Quynh in over a year now. And they weren’t due to meet up until next year’s Eid al-Fitr in Damascus. They’d split up after a harrowing few months in Rome, helping take care of plague victims. Italy breaks his heart more often than not these days, so much is changing and it is hard for him to keep track. Being here makes it worse, not better, because when he’s here he feels like he has to keep track.

Maybe they could head south for a bit? When was the last time they visited Marrakech? Or maybe Malta?

Their client makes another enraged noise as they approach the last of the wagons that held the man’s worldly goods. It’s clear that during the initial part of the bandit attack, half of the thieves had focused on diverting the attention of the guards and the other half must have been quickly plundering as much of the cargo as they could. Nicolò winces as he gingerly steps over a guard’s body. He and Yusuf had been at the front leading, they’d never even gotten an opportunity to help the rear guard.

Boxes and chests have been spilled out onto the ground, contents scattered about. There’s a dead thief, half slumped over one side of the wagon, a knife sticking out of his back. The last two wagons are in complete disarray, while a third appears to have only been lightly looted. The client grabs Nico’s arm, hard, and yanks the immortal towards the second to last wagon, shoving him towards it.

“Quick! Get up there, get up there!”

Nico takes a brief second to ask the heavens for patience, firmly reminds himself that if he and Yusuf do decide to head somewhere else after this, they will need money to do so and obligingly swings up into the wagon, nimbly clambering over the upturned boxes and pallets of goods.

“Check that one!” the man points imperiously, jabbing a fat finger at a large, iron bound chest that was carefully strapped to the wagon. Nico can’t fault the thieves for targeting such a curious prize. And they must have specifically targeted it because whoever forced the chest, broke the hinges off the back, cracking half of the trunk down once side. The lid is completely askew, no longer attached at all. Nico carefully lifts it and peers inside.

“Oh dear,” he says weakly, knowing that this is _not_ going to go over well with their client.

“What? Are they safe? Did the thieves take them?” the merchant demands.

“Ah,” Nicolò stalls for time, trying to figure out how to make this less of a blow. “I’m afraid most of the vials have broken, sir.”

The man stares at Nico, his complexion, which was already a very unhealthy red-purple, goes stark white. He rocks on his feet, and then weakly drops to sit on the road.

Nicolò can’t blame the man, really. The contents of this chest were worth quite a bit of money, and while it may be possible to salvage some of it, the wind is already blowing away much of the precious contents spilled from the broken vials. The merchant presses his hands to his face and lets out a weak moan of despair.

Nicolò uses the man’s distraction and pockets one of the remaining intact vials.

<|>

Yusuf sighs and leans back against the door of his and Nicolò’s room to push it firmly shut. They’re in Venice at last, paid and finally at liberty from that awful merchant fellow who spent the last two weeks of their trip from Florence in the absolute worst temper. Granted, they’d been attacked by bandits, that’s bound to ruin anyone’s day, or even week. But none of the man’s family had been killed, by God, none of his household even! But no, apparently the thieves had made off with, or ruined some precious part of the man’s household goods. He wouldn’t talk about it with anyone, just existed in sullen fury for the rest of the trip. Nothing was right, not the camps they made, the watches they set, the food they gathered, or roads they walked.

Before Yusuf can think any more on it, however, his attention is drawn immediately elsewhere as Nicolò pushes into his space, pressing him more firmly against the door. Nico braces a forearm on the door by Yusuf’s head, and ducks down to fix his mouth to that highly sensitive patch of skin just below his right ear.

“My love, oh I’ve _missed_ this,” Nicolò breathes, and Yusuf is helpless to stop his arms from drawing up and clutching Nico tightly.

The room they’ve paid for is a cheap one, thin walls and plenty of neighbors, so they won’t be able to get up to anything too wild, but they are behind a door that locks and Yusuf plans on taking full advantage of that fact. Especially since they’ve been discussing traveling to Morocco – which will mean several weeks at sea in cramped quarters.

“I got you a present,” Nico whispers, pressing fast, sweet kisses to Yusuf’s cheeks, chin, nose and brow.

“A present?” Yusuf asks, laughing in delight. “When? We’ve not been out of sight of each other since we got here.”

Nicolò pulls back, a mischievous look on his face. It is not often that his Nico has cause to look so sly, at least not outside of their favored bedroom activities, but the man has got a fox’s grin on, and by God, it suits him right down to the ground.

Yusuf is at once, terribly curious and terribly aroused.

Nicolò backs away and pulls out what appears to be a little bundle of cloth from the pocket of his long coat. The cloth is a piece of an old handkerchief, and it’s clearly wrapped around something. Nico takes one of Yusuf’s hands and gently places the bundle into his palm.

There is something cylindrical under the wrappings, and it feels fragile so Yusuf carefully peels back the cloth and reveals a glass vial, about the length and width of one of his fingers. The glass is a cloudy green, and he can make out some kind of powdered substance inside, shifting about against the cork stopper.

“Nico?”

“Open it,” Nicolò directs, “But be very careful.”

Yusuf is familiar with these kinds of vials, he’s seen them many times before, they’re often used to transport powdered pigments for paint. Delighted, he works the cork off to see what color his love has brought him.

He peers inside and feels his heart leap in his chest.

“Nicolò,” he whispers. “How…? _Where?_ ”

“It appears that our previous client was looking to branch out into artist’s supplies. He’d acquired a not insignificant shipment of this in Florence and well, some of it was damaged during the bandit attack. I may have impulsively...relieved him of one of the surviving vials. Just as a little extra bonus for having to put up with his horrible temper.”

“Nico, if we sold this we could-”

“No. I didn’t steal it to sell it, Yusuf. I stole it so you could use it.”

Yusuf looks up from the vial of ultramarine blue, a substance more precious than gold at present, resting in his hands and stares, completely stunned at the love of his life.

“You stole this for me to use?”

“Of course I did. The greatest artist deserves to have the best materials. You deserve all of the best things in this world, Yusuf.” Nico follows that simple statement with a shy smile. Although all of Nicolò’s smiles are his favorite, right now this one has taken the top spot.

Wordlessly, Yusuf caps the vial carefully and firmly. And then he reaches out and places the precious item on top of the wash basin cabinet by the door, making sure it will not roll off by keeping the handkerchief wrapped around it.

And then he reaches out, takes his lover’s face in-between his palms, and presses a soft kiss to Nico’s forehead.

“You are the best thing this world has ever given me,” Yusuf says into the small, still space between them.

Nicolò’s breath hitches in surprise and delight. Yusuf swoops in to steal that little sound from his lover’s lips and finds Nico all to willing to surrender it to him. The two men press and pull and stumble back towards the small bed and Yusuf gracelessly tips Nico into it.

<|>

Hours later, a stub of a candle burns on the cabinet, casting the barest glow of warm light around the room. Half of their blankets have ended up on the floor, along with most of their clothes. Yusuf has the vial of ultramarine in one hand, tipping it back and forth to watch the powder inside, rendered to nothing but a shadow, move back and forth, the sliding grains reminding him of sand dunes. His hand is resting on Nico’s bare back, holding the man close where he’s draped over Yusuf’s chest, nose tucked under Yusuf’s chin.

“What will you paint with it?” Nicolò asks, sleepily. They’ve no where to be tomorrow and Nicolò already has decided he is going to sleep in as long as possible. He considers getting up to grab one of the blankets before drifting off, but decides he’s too comfortable. Getting cold in the night is a problem for future Nicolò.

Yusuf huffs a laugh at Nicolò’s question.

“A million things come to mind,” he admits. He draws his hand up and down Nico’s spine. “But I know what I’m going to paint first.”

“What?”

“Your eyes, hayati. The first thing I’m going to paint is your eyes.”

**Author's Note:**

> this one was fun. some cool things that i learned while doing a bounce dive on wikipedia:  
> -the name for ultramarine comes from the latin "ultramarinus" which translates to 'beyond the sea'. hence the title.  
> -apparently in the 16th and 17th century, because the cheaper blue pigment azurite was hard to find, ultramarine became even MORE expensive than it already was  
> -the plague was ripping through Florence and several of the other city-states in the 1630s which is why the angry merchant was moving  
> -the boys are going to have A Time in Morocco if they end up going 'cause the Alaouite dynasty was first established in 1631 (a dynasty that continues to this day)
> 
> some other facts:  
> -i looked at SO MANY different pictures of Luca's eyes low key freaked out that his eyes weren't actually blue (still not convinced)  
> -got inspired to write this in the first place after youtube dropped an ASMR video of a woman mulling paints into my rec'ed videos (https://youtu.be/aCKtkvFvXa8)  
> -while writing this i listened to the same two clips of an instrument called the Hurdy Gurdy. i now have the overwhelming desire to write a fic where Nico plays this incredible instrument (https://youtu.be/bvNZeh6f8vE)  
> -my fabulous friend and cheerleader Jaeh convinced me to post this, huge THANK YOU to her  
> -if y'all could drop me a kudos or a comment letting me know what you think that'd be FANTASTIC
> 
> i am out of facts. all i know is this: i hope you are all safe and well. <3


End file.
